


Crossing Back

by Schnaucl (Onetrackmind)



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Incest, M/M, breaking point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-09
Updated: 2008-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onetrackmind/pseuds/Schnaucl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don spends so much energy trying not to cross one line that the others become blurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Back

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta spikedluv

Don was comfortably ensconced in his couch, a beer in his hand and the game on TV. It was late, after ten, so there was no earthly reason someone should be knocking on his door. And given the hour and the fact that his visitor was unannounced, there was only one person it could be. Anyone else would have had the decency to either call or wait for tomorrow.  
  
He gave some serious consideration to not answering the door. The TV was on low, so Charlie didn’t necessarily know he was awake. It had been a long week and he was tired and not really up to dealing with his brother. Charlie always took a lot of energy, he seemed to hang on Don’s every word and it was sometimes ridiculously easy to hurt his feelings, especially if Don was already irritated. And lately he’d been having the kind of thoughts no one should ever have about his sibling and hiding that took even more energy. Charlie might not be the best at picking up social cues but Don wasn’t going to take a chance. He couldn’t afford to be sloppy.  
  
But the knocking continued so finally Don sighed and pushed himself up off the couch and went to the front door. A quick look through the peephole confirmed that his late night visitor was indeed Charlie. As if sensing his gaze Charlie brought his other hand out from behind his back, holding up a six pack of beer.  
  
Charlie gave Don that quick flash of a grin and head duck that he did when he was unsure of his welcome or nervous about something. “Hey. I um—I brought beer.”  
  
“I see that,” Don said, accepting the six pack. “Blue Moon, huh?”  
  
“Yeah. Sorry, I know you prefer the darker beers but it was all we had at the house and I figured you were more likely to open up if I came bearing gifts.” He flashed that grin again and Don felt the butterflies start in his stomach. _Stop that._  
  
Charlie settled himself in the couch in the living room and Don stowed the beer in the fridge. He grabbed two bottles and popped the caps even though his own beer was still half full. Don handed Charlie a beer and resettled himself on the far end of the couch. “So, what brings you by at,” he paused and checked his watch, “10:39 on a school night? Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I was at CalSci and when I got home Dad was already in bed and I felt like company and the game is still on and since there were those rain delays I figured it would be on for a while yet and you might be watching it. So I thought I’d join you.”  
  
“Ah.” They watched the game in silence for a few minutes. Charlie’s right leg was bouncing and Don caught him sneaking glances at him every once in a while. Clearly there was something on Charlie’s mind. He could just ask him but he’d found that sometimes Charlie needed to come out with things in his own time. So he watched the game and watched Charlie trying to unobtrusively watch him and drank his beer and tried not to grit his teeth.  
  
Finally in the bottom of the ninth (still tied 2-2 and it looked like they were heading into extra innings) Charlie got up and returned a few minutes later with two new bottles of beer. Instead of returning to his chair Charlie dropped onto the couch right next to Don, so close their knees were touching. Don opened his mouth to say something about personal space but Charlie beat him to it.  
  
“So. You never answered my question.”  
  
Don frowned and took a swallow of beer. As far as he knew Charlie hadn’t asked any questions. Had he dozed off and not noticed? “Which is?”  
  
“Are you still seeing Dr. Bradford?”  
  
Don huffed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Of course_ Charlie hadn’t forgotten that conversation. “Charlie that was like - - three days ago.”  
  
“Yeah. And?” Charlie picked at the label on his bottle of beer but then looked up at Don through long lashes. “Are you?”  
  
“Yes. I’m still seeing Dr. Bradford.”  
  
Charlie nodded. “Good. Good.” He went back to picking at the label and Don waited, knowing the conversation wasn’t finished. “So, is he not helping anymore?”  
  
“What makes you think—you know what, nevermind. I don’t really want to discuss my shrink with you. Can we just watch the game?”  
  
Charlie’s jaw tightened. The silence lasted until the next commercial break. Charlie was probably sulking but Don refused to feel guilty. It was his apartment, and he was tired, and Charlie had invited himself over. But of course Charlie kept picking, he always did that, like a kid with a scab, and picking at Don seemed to be his favorite hobby. He’d pick and pick and pick until Don finally snapped. And it was more important than ever that Charlie not undermine his carefully built up defenses.  
  
“It’s just—you’re--.“  
  
Don sighed. “What, Charlie? What am I?”  
  
“Do you remember what you said to me when you were looking for Crystal Hoyle?” And Don was tired enough that he couldn’t stop his flinch at her name, but fortunately Charlie seemed to be focused on picking at the label on the beer bottle rather than looking at him. “After you let Ian—.“ he faltered and Don felt a wave of shame. He hadn’t thought that Charlie knew about what he’d let Ian do. Stupid of him, of course Charlie would find out somehow. He took a swallow of his beer just to avoid looking at his brother and Charlie cleared his throat. “You said you were crossing lines and you weren’t sure you could cross back.”  
  
“I remember.”  
  
Charlie’s head bobbed. “Good. I just—you’re still doing it, Don,” he said quietly. “You’re still crossing lines. You’ve been physical with suspects, you’ve punched at least two different men in the last year, and yes, I know one of them was over me, you’re arresting people on mere suspicion and making up reasons to hold them—.“  
  
“Person, not people.”  
  
“Whatever. The point is. . . “ Now Charlie sighed and finally put the beer bottle on his coffee table and turned to look at him. “The point is that you’re still crossing lines and I’m not sure if you don’t notice or - -.“  
  
“Or what?” Don demanded.  
  
“Or if you just don’t care anymore,” Charlie said quietly.  
  
Don clenched his jaw so tightly he felt something pop. It was all he could do to not cross that bright red line that divided him from Charlie and now Charlie wanted to tell him about all the _other_ lines he’d crossed as a result? He was barely holding it together and Charlie didn’t know the first thing about the lines he _hadn’t_ crossed. “Well that’s just great, Charlie. I’m doing the best that I can. I’m sorry if it’s not up to your high standards.”  
  
“Don—c’mon, I didn’t come here to fight with you—.“  
  
“Well you could have fooled me.”  
  
“I’m _worried_ about you, okay? So just—I know you’re not big on talking but talk to me anyway.”  
  
Don looked over at him and sighed. Charlie really did look worried. His dark eyes were slightly wide and pleading and he had that set to his jaw that meant he was going to do his best to out stubborn Don. If he didn’t give Charlie something, then he was just going to keep picking, it was what he did.  
  
“All right. But what makes you think you can help when Bradford can’t?”  
  
“Because I’m your brother,” he said quietly. “And because I’m guessing maybe there are things you don’t tell him because you’re afraid he’ll pull you from active duty. Besides, I brought you beer.”  
  
Don gave him a little smile and thought about it for a minute, trying to decide how much he could safely reveal. His gaze drifted back to the TV screen. Still tied. “I’m tired, Charlie,” he said finally. “I’m tired of seeing the bad guys get away on a technicality and I’m tired of the delays and feeling like all I ever do is clean up after the blood and the pain and I can never _prevent_ anything.” Charlie opened his mouth, but then wisely kept silent. “I mean, yeah, I know when we pick a guy up and lock him away that probably kept him from doing something later, but I don’t _know_ that the way I knew we stopped the bank from being blown up. It’s just—abstract. And it’s wearing me down.  
  
My job is my life. It’s all I do, day after day. I date women from work because they’re the only people I see, but then work gets in the way, we disagree on a case or they think I work too much or they think I’m too dark or that I just want to fuck which sometimes I do because sometimes the only time I can block it all out is when I’m—.“  
  
He wasn’t even aware of Charlie moving and his little brother’s lips were pressed against his. Don froze and Charlie took the opportunity to wrap a hand around the back of Don’s neck. It took him longer to react than it should have because he’d wanted this and couldn’t believe it was happening and because someone, somewhere had taught Charlie how to kiss _dirty_. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this. _Charlie_ wasn’t drunk enough for this.  
  
He shoved his brother back hard enough that his head bounced against the cushioned armrest of the couch. Don brought his arm up and wiped his mouth. “What the hell was that? What is _wrong_ with you?” Had he slipped up somehow, had Charlie picked upon his sick desire? His Dad had said that Charlie would do anything for him, but surely not that. He felt sick.  
  
Charlie looked at him, hurt and confusion clear on his face. He sat up warily and thankfully made no move to touch Don again. “I’m sorry, I just—you said—.“  
  
“You’re my _brother_ , Charlie!” He took a long swallow of beer, trying to wash the taste out of his mouth. It didn’t help much since Charlie had tasted like Blue Moon.  
  
“I know. I know, I’m sorry. I was trying to help.”  
  
“ _Help_? What, you thought I wasn’t fucked up enough so you’d add incest to the list?”  
  
Charlie blanched. “No, I just—you kissed me back,” he said plaintively, even a little petulantly. He said it like somehow that made things okay instead of exponentially worse.  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Don said, even though he damn well knew that he had. “You should go,” he said firmly. “Go home. Go home now and we’ll pretend this never happened.” Charlie opened his mouth to protest again and Don cut him off. “ _Now_ , Charlie. Before I say something I regret.”  
  
Charlie hesitated, still pale and trembling, but then he nodded and got up. “I’m sorry,” he said again before closing the door behind him.  
  
Don locked the door and put a chair under the handle for good measure. He did _not_ want his brother returning unannounced. He gathered up the beer and poured the contents down the drain, ignoring how his hands shook. He did the same thing with the remaining two bottles still in the refrigerator. Don would never be able to drink Blue Moon again.  
  
He brushed his teeth five times until he thought the only thing he’d ever be able to taste was Crest and not Blue Moon or Charlie. He went to bed and deliberately did not think about Charlie or what he’d said, and especially not about what he’d done.

* * *  
  
He almost hoped it was some kind of dream, but the empty bottles of Blue Moon in his recycling were proof enough that Charlie really had kissed him last night. He’d take the recycling out on the way to work. He didn’t want any evidence in his apartment.  
  
He got in the shower and closed his eyes. He’d been so careful not to let on, not to give a hint of his feelings to Charlie or anyone else. He’d made sure he hadn’t started touching Charlie any less or any more, made sure he didn’t avoid him even when he was afraid he’d snap if he spent one more second in his company. Where had he screwed up? He must have done _something_ to make Charlie think that was what he wanted.  
  
Was Charlie gay? Bisexual? Was Don the first man he’d ever kissed? Was he even interested in men? Was he interested in Don? Did he think that was the only way he’d get Don’s love and affection? He felt the bile rising in his throat and quickly swallowed it back down. Please not that.  
  
And what had Charlie been offering anyway? Sex? Did he really think Don would use him as a quick fuck to forget about his problems? If so, what did that say about what Charlie thought about him or about how Don had been treating him? Yeah, he’d had mostly casual sex relationships with some women, and Don had certainly heard the unkind things that were sometimes said about him at work, it was probably inevitable that Charlie heard someone say he’d fuck anything with a pulse. But Charlie didn’t really believe that, did he? How could he when sometimes he still looked at Don like he was some kind of goddamn hero?  
  
God had Charlie _wanted_ to be used? He had an image of Charlie going to a gay club and letting himself be fucked by an anonymous stranger just so he’d feel something. No. _No_. That was Don’s MO, not Charlie’s. True, Charlie got lost in his own head sometimes, and sometimes he needed Don to bring him back out again, but it had never been sexual and last night hadn’t been about Charlie’s needs. Unless it was and Don had just missed it. But he didn’t think that was it. Then again, his judgment where Charlie was concerned had clearly been off for a long time, there was no telling _what_ he might have missed in an effort to keep his own feelings hidden away.  
  
Had Charlie planned last night? He’d been nervous, but that could have been from confronting Don about those lines he was so worried about him crossing. And then Charlie had just leapt across the biggest, brightest line and Don’s world was even more fucked up than before.  
  
He shivered and abruptly realized that the water had turned tepid some time ago. He turned off the water with a snarl. Just fucking perfect. He’d spent so much time thinking about something that he was determined to block from his mind that now he was going to be late for work.  
  
He was able to focus on work for long stretches of time but then he’d suddenly find himself thinking about dry, chapped lips pressed against his own, or long fingers wrapped around the base of his neck, or the look on Charlie’s face when he pushed him away, scared and confused. Each time Don gritted his teeth, refocused on work and reminded himself that he was an expert at compartmentalization. That was one of the reasons Kim had broken up with him, after all. But it was just like Charlie to get under his skin, to distract him from work, to keep _pushing_ even when he wasn’t there. The only good news was that his next appointment with Bradford wasn’t for another four days and his current caseload had plenty of tedious work where no one would be put in any danger if he had a lapse of attention.  
  
Don thought about going out that night, finding some company to distract him, but ultimately stayed at home. He kept going over his interactions with Charlie, trying to find where he’d made his mistake. Charlie might be eccentric and lacking in social skills, but even he would have drawn the line at incest unless he was trying to please Don.  
  
The next day they had a case that would benefit from Charlie’s expertise. And since pretending nothing had happened required, well, pretending nothing had happened, Don called him.  
  
Charlie looked as tired as Don felt. There were dark circles under his eyes and he held himself carefully, as if he were waiting for someone to strike him. It made Don ache. “Hey, buddy.”  
  
“Hey, Don,” Charlie said cautiously.  
  
Don reached out and squeezed his shoulder, pretending that the touch didn’t set off all the nerve endings in his body. Don filled him in on the facts of the case and gradually they both relaxed a little. But Charlie still held himself carefully and he never lost that haunted look.  
  
Two days later and Don was in the grocery store, standing in the beer aisle. His gaze kept drifting back to the Blue Moon, remembering the taste of Charlie’s mouth and the feel of his lips. He must have had his hand on it and walked away a half dozen times before he finally put it in his basket.  
  
He had his appointment with Bradford and ended up telling him about Charlie’s concerns, though not the kiss of course. _That_ particular topic would never see the light of day, not if he wanted to keep his job and Charlie his security clearance.  
  
He had dinner at the house once, and he and Charlie mostly managed to pull off normal. Their dad asked if they’d had a fight and Don shrugged and said it wasn’t a big deal, they’d figure it out. Charlie didn’t disagree.  
  
Another day and they were able to clear the case. At the end of the day Charlie stood awkwardly by Don’s desk, his eyes downcast. “I just—I have to ask,” he said, his voice so soft Don had to strain to hear it. “Do you hate me?”  
  
“What? Charlie no, of course not,” Don said, surprised and even a little hurt by the suggestion.  
  
“Are you sure?” Charlie’s voice sounded strained, like he was trying to hold back tears.  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure, buddy. Look, let’s get out of here, okay? Go to my place.” Clearly they were going to have to talk a little or Charlie was going to blame himself for something that wasn’t his fault.  
  
Charlie nodded.  
  
The car ride was silent except for the drone of the local sports station. They were still quiet when they entered the apartment. Don went straight to the refrigerator because if they were going to have this conversation he needed a drink. Or three. He gave Charlie one of the bottles of beer and if he noticed it was the same as the night all this started he didn’t comment. Don sat down on the couch and motioned for Charlie to sit next to him. “Now why would I hate you?”  
  
Charlie scowled. “You know why. You’re not really going to pretend that kiss never happened, are you?”  
  
“That kiss wasn’t your fault, Charlie. It was mine.”  
  
“It was? Because I distinctly remember kissing you.” His tone managed to convey that he also distinctly remembered Don kissing back, no matter what Don claimed after the fact.  
  
Don fidgeted with his beer bottle. “Yes, but—look, you’ve always had sort of a hero worship thing with me. And I don’t know if you felt obligated or you were seeking approval or—.“  
  
“Wow. And I thought _I_ was the one with an ego.”  
  
Don flushed. “Look, I’m trying to apologize here. I clearly made you think that I needed you to—you know. You were worried about me and maybe you thought it was the only way to make me feel better but - -.“  
  
“Are you done playing the martyr?” Charlie sounded almost angry. He _looked_ angry. His eyes were sort of narrowed and his knuckles were white on the beer bottle. Don frowned, completely thrown off track. “You want to know what I was thinking? Why I did it? It wasn’t because I have some ridiculous notion of hero worship.” Don opened his mouth but Charlie cut him off. “Let me talk. I’m an adult, Don. I have been for a quite a while. I know what I want and why I want it. I want you. I’ve been trying to hide it for a long time, but you just—you looked so damn vulnerable and I had a weak moment and poor impulse control and it won’t happen again. But you don’t get to be the martyr and take all the responsibility for things that aren’t your fault. You don’t need to protect me from myself.”  
  
Don just stared at him, his throat dry. “You want me?” he said finally.  
  
“Yes,” Charlie said quietly. “Don’t worry, it won’t become an issue. I won’t slip again.”  
  
“But I mean—you want me. Not because I need someone to—“ he made a little gesture with his hands.  
  
“No, Don. I love you, but I wasn’t going to let you fuck me just so you’d feel better. Believe it or not I don’t need your approval _that_ badly.”  
  
Don gave a ghost of a smile. “Good. But if I wanted to because I wanted you?”  
  
Now Charlie stilled and looked at Don intently. “Don’t joke about this, Don, I don’t think I could take it. And don’t talk about it if you don’t mean it.”  
  
“I mean it,” Don said softly. “Charlie I—I’ve been trying to keep myself from thinking about you, from wanting you. I think—I think that’s why I crossed some of those other lines, because I was using all of my energy on making sure you never knew—I didn’t want you to feel—pressure or—or like you’d have to do something for my approval or—it’s illegal Charlie. Seriously illegal and if anyone ever found out—I didn’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable or—but I want you. If—if you still want me. If you want to take that risk,” he said quietly. He hardly dared to breathe. He watched Charlie’s face as his brother took it all in, his admission and his fears. He watched joy and hope and wariness cross Charlie’s face one after the other, so fast they were almost indistinguishable.  
  
Charlie licked his lips and then said, “Okay, first, you need to get that I’m capable of saying no to you. You’re my brother and I want your approval but I’m not some—childlike sycophant, okay?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay, good. Then I also need you to know that I understand the consequences, and I accept that we’d have to be secret about this. Forever. And I can do that. But Don this—this can’t be just sex. It costs too much for that. I love you. I’m _in_ love with you and I can’t settle for anything less than that.”  
  
Don swallowed and nodded. “I love you, too, Charlie. And—I can do that. I can be faithful, for you. I can accept the consequences of being with you. The secrecy. I just want to be with you.” He felt lightheaded, giddy. “What did we just decide here?”  
  
Charlie gave him a brilliant smile that made his heart clench. “We decided that we’re going to be together. Consequences be damned.” Then the smile turned less innocent and more wicked as Charlie got up and moved to straddle Don’s lap. Don gasped as their groins touched and Charlie bent his head and kissed him just as he had less than a week ago and this time Don let himself kiss back. He groaned and wrapped his hands around Charlie’s ass, pulling him closer as he took control of the kiss, slipping his tongue into Charlie’s mouth. He tasted the same as before, a little chalky, a little bit of Blue Moon and something that was uniquely Charlie. He kissed Charlie again and again, loving the soft moans and occasional whimper he was able to pull from his brother. At last his whispered in his ear, “Bedroom.”  
  
Charlie nodded and scrambled off, but offered Don his hand. Don glanced back at the front door to make sure it was locked, then walked hand in hand into the bedroom.  
  
“I want you to fuck me,” Charlie announced.  
  
Don grinned. “Not shy about asking for what you want, are you?”  
  
“Nope,” Charlie said, unrepentant. “And next time,” he murmured, leaning in to whisper in Don’s ear, “I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to beg me to let you come.” He nibbled on his earlobe and Don groaned. He could already tell that being with Charlie was going to be a joy and a challenge.  
  
“We’ll see, little brother.” He paused and looked Charlie in the eye. “Have you done this before? With a man?”  
  
“Yes,” Charlie said simply. And maybe Don would ask about it later but right now that was all he needed to know.  
  
He stripped Charlie’s shirt, pressing kisses to his shoulders, nipples and belly. He started to undo his belt but Charlie made a noise of protest and started to undo the buttons on Don’s shirt, pressing a kiss to each bit of newly exposed flesh. “Do you have _any_ idea how long I’ve wanted this?” Charlie asked.  
  
“Maybe as long as I have,” Don murmured. He kissed Charlie again, sweet and tender and a few minutes work had both of them stripped and Charlie sprawled across the bed. “God, you’re beautiful,” Don said softly.  
  
Charlie blushed and reached up to caress Don’s cheek. “I’m not the only one.”  
  
Don kissed his palm and pulled the lube out from his nightstand. Then he set to work kissing Charlie again, teasing his flesh, finding each and every hot spot and setting it ablaze until Charlie was writhing and whimpering beneath him. Only then did he slick his fingers and press the first one inside him. The second soon followed and when he crooked his fingers and found Charlie’s prostate he wailed, his back arching, toes curling and digging into the sheets. Don thought he could hear that sound all his life and never tire of it. He didn’t delay long after that. He used a third finger and then withdrew. Charlie whimpered but soon Don was pushing in with one long glide. Charlie was tight and hot and _perfect_.  
  
Charlie clung to him and Don trembled with the effort of not moving until Charlie kissed him and moved a little. He mewled and moaned and chanted “Don, Don, Don!” like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Don didn’t remember ever feeling this _right_ being inside someone, couldn’t recall a time when his chanted name lifted his heart the way it did now. He wrapped his hand around Charlie’s cock and matched the rhythm of his thrusts. “Charlie,” he whispered his brother’s name over and over in his ear. It didn’t take long to get them both to the edge. One day he’d keep them there until they both thought they might go insane but this wasn’t the time for games. “Come for me, Charlie,” he growled, and Charlie did, a long hard jerk as he cried Don’s name. Don came a moment later, biting lightly at the junction of Charlie’s neck and shoulder.  
  
Charlie wrapped his arms around him and Don collapsed on top of him, spent. He kissed Charlie’s neck and stroked his hair and after a while he found the strength to get a washcloth to clean them up. Then he gathered Charlie in his arms and tucked them both under the covers.  
  
“Still going to be here tomorrow?” Charlie murmured sleepily.  
  
Don knew he wasn’t talking about being physically there, it was his apartment, after all. “Yeah, buddy. Still going to be here tomorrow. And every day after,” he said, pressing a kiss into his hair.  
  
“Good. Me too. And Don?”  
  
“Yes, Charlie?”  
  
“I’ll help keep you on the right side of those other lines.”  
  
“I know you will, Charlie. I’m counting on it.”


End file.
